A Rush of Blood to the Head
by Mrs Dizzy
Summary: A collection of short drabbles, set during and post TRF, each inspired partly by one song off the Coldplay album of the same title. Features Sherlock, Mycroft, Molly, John, Moriarty POVs, with a slight lean towards Sherlock/Molly
1. Politik

I've rediscovered Coldplay's 'A Rush of Blood to the Head' album and found the inspiration and motivation to write these small pieces. They are each inspired by one of the songs on the album.

I hope you get as much enjoyment reading these as I had writing them. Reviews are very much appreciated.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor the songs (lyrics) that are featured here.**

**Politik**

_Give me time and give me space_

_Give me real, don't give me fake _

_Give me strength, reserve control_

_Give me heart and give me soul_

* * *

Of course it would take one of them to (fake) die for them to agree on a ceasefire.

The older brother caving in with the weight of guilt carried silently over years. The younger finally understanding what it meant to surrender because people did matter.

Still, the war had been waging for too long and lives were forever marked by events the memories of which were tainted with the belief that the other was in the wrong.

But the walls were coming down, slowly, brick by brick. They still reached for their weapons of choice on days when it all was too much. But the heat – the simmering anger, the confusing hate – was being replaced with mutual respect and maybe a hint of admiration.

Some sentimental soul would go as far as calling it love.


	2. In My Place

**In My Place**

_If you go, if you go_

_Leaving me down here on my own_

_Well I wait for you_

* * *

She'd thought that she was finally over him. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't blind. There was only so much disinterest a girl could take before she got the message.

She used to think that last Christmas had given her the clarity she needed – she simply did not exist in his world the way he did in hers. She used to think that this was the greatest gift he could ever give her.

But then he had to go and be his contrary self and suddenly make her the centre of his universe.

"You."

With that single word, all the hope, all the dreams, all the prayers she'd decided to bury deep, deep in her heart had filled her again.

It wasn't fair. It would never be fair.


	3. God Put A Smile Upon Your Face

**God Put A Smile Upon Your Face**

_Where do we go to draw the line?_

_I've gotta say I wasted all your time, _

_Where do I go to fall from grace?_

_God put a smile upon your face..._

* * *

Sometimes, he thinks of the smile she'd given him right after he'd told her his plans.

Until then, he'd doubted himself completely. Until then, he'd thought everything had been lost.

But then her face had lit up and her eyes had sparkled and he'd known that everything was going to be okay.

She believed in him. She believed in him when everyone had overlooked her.

Sometimes, he thinks of the sad smile she'd given him right after he'd said goodbye.

Everyday he wonders if she would smile again when – if – he returns.

He wants to find out. He wants to know.


	4. The Scientist

**The Scientist**

_I was just guessing at numbers and figures_

_Pulling your puzzles apart_

_Questions of science; science and progress_

_Do not speak as loud as my heart_

* * *

He remembers the boy Sherlock used to be. The adult – the cold calculating machine he'd become – knows that indulging in this kind of sentiment served no purpose. Definitely gave no advantage.

The easy animosity had become so much part of who they were to each other, that anything else was unthinkable.

But Mycroft remembers summers long ago, running around their paternal grandmother's garden, fighting imaginary foes. He as the British navy – suppose he'd always played that role. Sherlock as Captain Vernet "Scourge of the Seven Seas" Holmes.

They'd only played enemies then. The battles and the sword fights forgotten by tea time, replaced by streams of questions from Sherlock, curious about everything, and Mycroft, determined to share everything he knew.

Then one summer, they were no longer playing archenemies. With one necessary betrayal, Mycroft had become Sherlock's sworn foe.

Sherlock had always remained his little brother.


	5. Clocks

**Clocks**

_Come out of the things unsaid_

_Shoot an apple off my head and a_

_Trouble that can't be named_

_A tiger's waiting to be tamed…_

* * *

The name Moriarty had lost its meaning over the months, replaced by a new one – Moran, Sebastian.

He was not going to make the same arrogant mistake and underestimate the man. He might not have Moriarty's genius but he was just as deadly.

Ruthless in a completely different way. If Moriarty was a spider, then Moran was a big, powerful cat. Stealth and precision, that's how he got his prey.

But he could be just as patient. The game would go for as long as it needed to.

He hoped game over meant he could go home.

And he hoped he still had a home.


	6. Daylight

**Daylight**

_At a full tilt, and at full flight_

_You see darkness, in the daylight_

* * *

He was ready. Everything was prepared and all he had to do was wait.

It could all go wrong. No matter how hard he tried, he always missed something. Some small detail.

A crucial bit of his plan hinged on someone believing to be invisible and thus rendering her invisible. And he knew she wasn't invisible. Never had been.

He looked at John and wondered if he'd ever felt like her. If he had ever made him feel like her.

But what he will do next was infinitely worse. He hoped the intention would forgive the action. And even if there would never be any redemption, at least they were alive and safe.

Because this is what Moriarty had missed – he was definitely not one of the angels.


	7. Green Eyes

**Green Eyes**

_Because I came here with a load_

_And it feels so much lighter _

_Since I met you_

* * *

He tried to hate him. And for a while, he thought he did. Because he should, shouldn't he? For his cowardice, for his selfishness.

Leaving him to deal with the mess. The void.

He saw the graffiti all around town and wanted to add his own words. Angry words, denying the message, denying his 'friend'.

But he couldn't. He couldn't not believe in him, even when all logic and all evidence – something that the green-eyed bastard had loved above everything else – pointed towards it all being a lie.

That his life had been a lie too.

No. His life before Sherlock had been a lie.


	8. A Warning Sign

**Warning Sign**

_You came back to haunt me and I realized_

_That you were an island and I passed you by_

_And you were an island to discover_

* * *

He still hears her voice in his head.

"I don't count."

His apparent indifference had kept her safe. Had kept him safe too. Had kept so many people who mattered safe.

He will not regret this. He will never regret this.

But he never meant to be cruel. Especially not to her.

He will do his best to stay alive, so he can make amends. So he can remind her every day that she counted.

Always has. Always will.


	9. A Whisper

**A Whisper**

_Night turns to day_

_And I still have these questions_

_Bridges will break_

_Should I go forwards or backwards_

* * *

The lie weighs heavy on her. And the truth keeps her awake at night.

She sees them moving on, moving past his 'death'. Living their lives as if he was truly gone. She tries, too. But feels every inch like the fraud he's made of her and so she remains stuck.

She waits for some news, looks for signs, something, anything. But she gets nothing. Nothing but silence.

Yet, she keeps her vigil. In hopes that in the quiet she will hear a whisper.


	10. A Rush of Blood To The Head

**A Rush Of Blood To The Head**

_So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war_

_If you can tell me something worth fighting for_

* * *

Life – the kind of life he'd chosen to live – had become entirely too predictable. And the people – so mind-numbingly stupid!

Even Seb – with his skills and his methods – it all got old very quickly.

And then, a name. A thoroughly ridiculous one. Seriously, who the fuck names a child Sherlock? Ah, he giggled about that for days.

Who cares about a name, right? Not when the man the name came with was so – so not ordinary.

He'd been so bored and then for a while, he hadn't been.

But now – the tedium, the endless banality of life.

He'd thought Sherlock was the one. So much promise but in the end just like the rest of them.

He was utterly disappointed.

Sherlock was going to pay for that.


	11. Amsterdam

**Amsterdam**

_You can say what you mean_

_But it won't change a thing_

_I'm sick of the secrets_

_Stood on the edge, tied to the noose_

_And you came along and you cut me loose_

* * *

The most frightening thing was that Moriarty was right.

He needed this fall to understand. He thought he'd been alive, but what he'd really been doing was sleep walking.

How could he have thought that he saw, when his eyes had been closed?

He'd been lying to himself, all along.

And now here he was, standing on the ledge. He saw John down there and then felt the rush.

He was finally awake.


End file.
